//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Sharpe's Equestria // by Teal //------------------------------// Chapter 3 Sharpe looked around the bloody streets of the town, as bodies of both red and blue piled up in every corner. They had made the charge down the slopes of the ridge and into the town of Fuentos de Oro, where a brutal battle of hand to hand combat ensued. Earlier, reserves from the 74th, 45th, and 88th Connaught Ranger charged down towards the town, in hopes of rescuing it from the French onslaught. Although they managed to hold them off at first, theirs initial success was bogged down by French Reinforcements. In order to save both the battle and himself, as Sharpe was about to face a court inquiry, he managed to convince his superior, Col. Runciman, to reinforce the British forces with his Light company and Real Compania Irlandesa. Now, as the French started to fall back and leave the town, Sharpe watched from their side as the enemy stumbled down the stream and back towards their lines. The mass of blue, that only hours before were attacking them, now fell back as they helped their injured comrades cross the water. The British soldiers cheered at their victory, while taunting the enemy as the fell back. Some sporadic shots were taken, but no reply came. The enemy was beaten and was not going to come back soon. Instead of shooting back, they tried their best to get away from the fighting. Their officers desperately tried to rally them and continue the fight, but their spirit was broken. They were tired and defeated, with little ammunition left to shoot. Watching the French officers swing their swords and push the men back, Sharpe’s eyes fell on one particular man. Wearing a grey coat made out of wolf’s fur, the man stood above a broken bridge as he tried to urge the retreating French back into the fight. He shouted at the men and pushed them, but none of them would turn back and face the British. Staring at the man, Sharpe knew who he was. The man who was notorious to the guerilleros and feared by all in France, Brigadier General Loup. Known to kill both fighters and civilians, Sharpe and his men manage to capture two of his men, when they were committing acts of atrocities on a small Spanish village. Feeling sick and disgusted, Sharpe ordered the execution of both, bringing him on list of Loup’s enemies, as he swore to kill Sharpe at all cost. He already tried once and Sharpe knew that this man wouldn’t stop unless he killed him first. So without hesitation, Sharpe moved towards the stream’s bank, swords at hand and ready to kill the man who has killed so many innocent lives. “Loup! Loups you bloody bastard!” He shouted, charging the man as he prepared to swing his sword and finish what he began. Loup turned his head towards the rifleman as he watched him approach. Sharpe could feel the cold dead eye stare at him and knew that it wouldn’t do so in a few moments after he was done with him. He was about to swing his sword at the man when he felt a searing sharp pain hit his chest, causing him to fall and hit the soft dirt of the stream’s bank. The intensity of the pain caused him to drop his sword and stare up at the sky, as he groaned in annoyance. “Loup, you cheating bastard.” He muttered under his breath. A shadow soon hovered above him, soon to be followed by the face of the brutal French man, who was now looking down at him, with sweet pleasure plastered on his face. “I’m sorry, Captain, but a man must do everything to exact his revenge.” Loup said, with delight in his voice. He then pointed his fully loaded pistol at Sharpe and aimed for the head. “I hope you understand.” He said, before pressing the trigger. The last thing Sharpe saw was a flash of bright light, as the gun ignited, and a dreadful pain on his forehead. *** “Aaaaaaaaa!” Sharpe screamed in utter horror, as he tossed the blanket on top of him and shot his eyes open. The dream he had was all too real and graphic, a terrible nightmare of his own death. The blood, the pain, the awful shot, and his untimely demise. All shown in one terrible dream, a dream ended with him dead on the banks of the stream near Fuentos de Oro. But that was all that, he assured himself, only a dream. Nothing more but a figment of his cruel imagination as it continues to torture him. None of it was real, he was safe and alive. Sleeping on the soft bed, inside the nice cool room of… Wait a minute, where was he? He didn’t remember spending the night inside a nice room like this where the mattress was as soft as the clouds. So where in the world was he? Quickly straightening himself up and looking around, he was shocked to see that the walls of this room were made out of some kind of crystal. Bright and shiny, they twinkled like stars from the light inside the room. If he rented this room in a drunken spree, he was sure that it would have cost him his life earnings. To have crystals for walls? Where did they eyen get this much crystals in the first place? “Oh, it’s glad to see you awake…again…” A feminine voice said, making Sharpe turn his head to meet it. Facing his head towards the voice, he felt his blood run cold as he saw something that he thought was only a dream. Standing in the room, all eyes staring at him, were six horses of different colors and physical looks. Their eyes were filled with curiosity, as they gave him a worried smile. Except for the pink one, who was giving him the biggest smile he has ever seen. Wait, smile? Can horses do that? Remaining silent, because of the shock that hit him, Sharpe looked at every single one. That was when he noticed the one of the horses, the light blue one, was hovering above the floor, as it flapped its wings like a bird. “That’s it…” Sharpe muttered to himself. “…this is either another weird dream or I am drunk.” He reminded himself not to let Harper give him too much to drink during their after battle celebrations. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think you’re dreaming, unless me and my friends are in the very same dream with you.” The lavender one said, as she moved closer to him. “So, this isn’t a dream?” Sharpe said putting his hand on his head, only to see that it was a hoof. Looking down his body, his suspicions were confirmed. He too was a horse. ‘Oh, not again…’ He thought to himself, confirming that his early image of being a horse was not a dream. “Yeah, everything around you is real.” She said, nodding. Sharpe looked away from his body and stared at the lavender horse, their eyes locking together. He kept his eyes focused in her, without blinking, as he tried to confirm if she was serious. Under Sharpe’s intimidating gaze, he could tell that she was feeling a little uneasy in front of him. “So are you telling me that you’re really a talking horse?” He asked. The lavender horse nodded. “The proper term is pony, but yes, I guess…” “So, I’m apparently a talking horse too?” He asked, pointing a hoof at himself. “Again, ‘Pony’, but yes.” She said, trying to hide her annoyance on his persistence on the word horse. “So I’m a ‘pony’…” He said, thumping his chest with his hoof. “…that somehow talks and has this pointy thing sticking out of my forehead?” He said, acting a little hysterical. The information he was getting was overwhelming for him, as he wondered how he was going to act sane in a situation like this. He was a horse for crying out loud! The situation was absurd and impossible, making a part of him refuse to believe it. But the voices and the touches felt too real, telling him the situation in front of him was actually happening. How it’s happening, he didn’t know. Trying to calm himself down, he decided to tackle the situation in a slow and steady way. His usual rash and quick thinking won’t get him out of this situation. Nothing made sense right now, so he must try to gather as much information he can, before formulating something that would get him out of this predicament. That is, if he could get himself out of it. Sighing and swearing under his breath, he buried his face on his hooves. The suddenness of this situation was bringing too much stress to him, as he felt the headache return. Noticing this, the lavender pony approached him and put a hoof on his shoulder. “Maybe you want to discuss this over some tea?” She asked. “I also got some cookies if you like.” She added, as she gave him a small smile. Looking up at her, Sharpe tried his best to return the smile. “Some tea would be nice…” He said, knowing the warm liquid could calm down his nerves. “But I would need something stronger once this is over…” He added, hoping these ponies drink Brandy. *** Sharpe watched as a tray of cookies and tea was levitated in front of him and gently placed on top of the table. He was amazed at the sight of having an object float in thin air, without anything pulling it up. At first he thought it was impossible, that it was some sort of trick of the eye, and then he remembered his current predicament of being a pony and concluded that some things here were just possible. “How are you doing that?” He asked, giving the lavender colored pony a puzzled look. “How am I doing what?” She asked as she took a sit next to him. “That levitating thing, how are you doing it?” “You mean this.” She said, levitating a cup of tea, engulfing the cup with a purple aura. “Why magic of course. Any unicorn can do it, even you.” “Even me?” He said, looking confused. “Of course…” The white pony who sat next to her said. “…have you forgotten that you are a unicorn? Or even worse, have you forgotten how to use magic.” She concluded her sentence with a dramatic gasp, as she looked towards her friend. “Twilight, is it possible that he suffered amnesia? Maybe he was knocked down by something and forgot all of his memories.” “Well, it is possible…” The pony named Twilight said, as she thought it over. “…but a simple test would be able to answer our suspicions.” She then turned her attention back to Sharpe. “Are you having troubles with your memory?” She asked. “You know, like forgetting your name of something.” “No, mam, I think I remember everything that has happened to me.” He said, in a polite manner. Seeing that these ponies were kind to him, he might as well return the favor. Even though he was no gentleman in his life, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to act kindly to others. “Alright, let’s put that to do test. You wouldn’t mind if I ask you some questions, would you?” She asked. Sharpe shook his head. “Good. So, if you do remember everything, what is your name, where do you live, and what is your job. There, seems basic enough.” Without hesitation, Sharpe quickly answered the questions thrown at him. It’s not like it was too difficult. “Well, my name is Richard Sharpe. I currently live with the British army, if you consider that proper place to live that is, and as for my job, I am currently the Captain of the Light Company of the South Essex Regiment.” He said, taking pride at the last part. It took him grate difficulty to get and keep his command of the Light Company. But after a countless amount of struggles, he can finally say that he was the proud commander of the Light Company of the South Essex. “You see, I told you that he was a member of the Royal Guard!” The light blue pony said, as she hovered off to the side. The Royal Guard? Sharpe doubted it if he was Royal Guard material. With all the shiny boots and neat uniforms the House Guards wore, Sharpe, who had no title and wore a ragged uniform, would not be allowed near the Guard, let alone a member of it. So what made her think that he was a part of it? “Now, mam, I can assure you that I am not a member of the Royal Guard.” He said, waving it off. “Oh, yeah? Then explain that sword we found next to you.” She said, with a smug look on her face. “Sword, what sword?” He asked, curious to see what she was talking about. Could it be his swords? The old cavalry swords that he carried throughout the long campaigns in Portugal and Spain. The sword that helped him win almost every battle he fought. “Why that swords over there.” Twilight said, pointing towards the table on the other side of the room. “We found it along with some other objects that we thought were yours.” Feeling the need to see if it was truly his sword, he immediately got up and head towards the table. He managed to trot towards it without stumbling down on his stomach. At first, walking on all fours seemed odd and strange, ending with him falling on his belly. But after a couple of goes, the quick learning Sharpe managed to get the hang of it and he was soon walking on all four hooves. Standing in front of the table, he looked down to see a sight that made him smile in happiness. He felt a sudden rush of joy, as he was relieved to see the objects that he considered precious to him. On table was his sword, the 1796 pattern heavy cavalry sword, was known for being heavy yet powerful in battle. Sharpe considered the sword as his pride and joy and he was happy to see it with him, in this strange new world. Along with his sword was his Baker Rifle, one of the most accurate weapons in the British Army, as well as its ammunition pack and power horn. Sharpe knew that he had at least sixty cartridges in the pack, while he had the powder horn filled to the brim with gunpowder, in case he needed to adjust the amount for his rifle. Finally, the last three things on the table were his pack, rifleman’s jacket and his cap, which had the symbol of the 95th Rifles stitched in front of it. These two pieces of clothing showed to the world that he was no ordinary soldier, but a Rifleman. Someone who has been chosen for his skills and abilities. These to facts made him proud every time he wore his uniform, for the green jacketed rifles were one of the best units in Wellington’s army. ‘First on the field and last of it.’ Moving his hoof towards the sword, he brought it towards the handle when he realized one problem. “You got to be kidding me.” He groaned in annoyance, as he realized that it would almost be impossible to use the sword with hooves for hands. Sure, he was able to grab the swords and carry it, but it was almost impossible to swing it or trot around with it on his hooves. Might as well use it as a mantel piece, seeing that it was basically useless without hands. But wait, how did ponies use their swords? Surely they are able to use them, seeing that they know what a sword is. Sharpe would bet forty shillings that they use it with their ‘magic’. “What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, as she moved up to stand beside him. “It’s this bloody hooves!” He exclaimed, waving his right hoof in front of her. “You can barely do anything with them except trot and pick things up.” With a groan filled with frustration, he slammed his hoof on the floor and sighed. “I wish I had my hands instead of these useless things.” “Wait, did you say hands?” Twilight asked, giving him a puzzled look. “Yeah, hands…” He said, still annoyed at his hooves. “…you know, complete with five fingers each.” “Oh, no, Twilight!” The white pony exclaimed as she looked at Twilight. “He’s starting to talk like Lyra!” “Who?” Sharpe asked, raising an eyebrow as he switched glances at the two. “She’s talking about Lyra.” Twilight explained. “Just some silly pony who believes humans are real. Somehow she is obsessed with them and she keep talking about hands and stuff like that…” “But humans are real.” Sharpe said, before pointing at himself. “I’m a human.” “Umm, are you sure? Because you look like a pony to me.” She said, confused at Sharpe’s remark. Sharpe snorted as he shook his head. “Well, I might look like a pony right now, but I can assure you that I was a human. For some reason, which I don’t know why, I find myself here, as a pony.” “I don’t know…” Twilight said, not convinced to what he was saying. From her point of view, Sharpe looked like a crazy pony who was talking about nonsense. Sharpe had to convince her that he really was a human, trapped in a pony’s body, but how? If he tried explaining things to her, she would just think he’s crazy. There had to be another way. Something that would really convince her that he was telling the truth. That was when he got an idea. “Twilight, that’s your name right, Twilight. Anyways, you want proof right? Well how about you look through that pack over there and pull out a coin.” He said, knowing that his pack was filled with coins, coins that he earned through fighting. “Alright…” Twilight said, giving him an uneasy glare, as she used her magic to open the pack. She then pulled out a coin and levitated it out. “…but I don’t know how a coin can convince me…” She stopped midway through her sentence as she gasped at the engraving of the coin. Staring at the coin, she couldn’t believe was she was seeing. On the face of the coin was the image of a strange looking creature, which had a weird looking face and long hair. Although Twilight wasn’t obsessed with humans, it still didn’t mean she didn’t know how one looked. ‘Georgius III DEI GRACIA’ it read. Sharpe, who saw the shocked expression on her face, looked at her with a smug grin. “Convinced now?” He asked, as she slowly nodded in reply.